


Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Sun

by BRR77872



Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: M/M, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BRR77872/pseuds/BRR77872
Summary: In a world that suddenly becomes much less confusing, Ari and Dante learn how to navigate their lives with their new relationship, and Dante faces the secrets he's neglected within himself for far too long now.
Relationships: Aristotle Mendoza & Dante Quintana, Aristotle Mendoza/Dante Quintana
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This series will explore Aristotle and Dante's love for one another, and the challenges that love will face in the late eighties, as well as Dante's struggle to accept and see himself as a Mexican American.
> 
> I'm writing this mostly because of how much I relate to Dante and his feeling of not being Mexican enough, and also because I know what it's like to find a love so ground-breaking, so life changing, that you learn new things about yourself because of it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I know i'm going to enjoy writing it.

I have a lot of people who consider me their friend. The boys on my swim team, the people in my AP English class, the girl I kissed back when me and my family were living in Chicago. I’ve always had a lot of people who considered me their friend, my dad says it’s because I’m like the sun and no one can help but get caught in my gravity. 

He’s got his degree in English Literature, though, so I don’t know for sure how dramatic he’s being about it. I  _ do  _ know that I like the way it sounds, and when he says it I can’t help but grin like a lunatic.

That’s the thing about my dad, he thinks life is a big poem with a series of interweaving words and feelings that just got more complicated the longer you stare at it. My mom balances him out, she was more… well, I was going to say she’s more ‘black and white’, but I don’t think those are the right words. She’s less dreamy than he is, more grounded. She keeps him in this reality, otherwise I’m pretty sure he’d go floating off somewhere.

My mom says I’m just like him in that way, she says the only thing keeping me tethered to this Earth is the body that I’m trapped in. She says, ever since I was a little boy, she was worried about me floating away from her and never coming back. 

She won’t admit it, but I think she’s still a little afraid of that. I think she always will be, even though now she has no reason to be scared. The whole floating away thing, that changed the day I met Aristotle Mendoza. The day I taught him to swim, that was the day I’d become anchored onto this Earth forever. I didn’t know it at the time, but I felt it. Aristotle was the first person that not only considered himself a friend of mine, but that  _ I  _ considered a friend of mine _. _ The universe is a little tricky that way, I think, putting people in your path that you never imagined, people that you’ve never even dreamt up. People that seem too good to be true, people who you didn’t know you needed until they’re right there, staring you smack dab in your face.

I figured out I was in love with Aristotle the day he jumped in front of a car for me. I figured it out just before the accident, not after. When he was staring at me with this look of amusement and fondness in his eyes, right after I said we could save the bird that was stuck and injured in the middle of the road. And his look was so soft, so tender, my heart felt like it was getting lodged in my throat, and I could’ve sat there staring at him the whole afternoon. Because he’s beautiful, and wonderful, and even though I had just told him I was moving away for the year, all of the walls I managed to knock down during our friendship remained down. He let himself be vulnerable with me, even though I had just said something that hurt the both of us, he let me see what he was feeling, what he was thinking. And if I hadn’t been so afraid of how I felt in that moment, maybe I wouldn’t have turned around as fast as I did, to escape the feeling. Maybe I would’ve looked at him a little longer, and the timing of the car would’ve been off, and maybe it would’ve sped by long before I stepped into the road. Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten hurt, maybe Aristotle wouldn’t have had to risk his life for me.

It’s a lot of maybes, and I wonder if it happened that way in some alternate universe. I wonder if maybe things would’ve turned out a little differently, in the end. Because even though it had seemed like the end of the world in the moment, I think it set everything up to be the way it is now. In the middle of the desert, with his hands cupping my cheeks, and our lips pressed together, kissing. Kissing and kissing and kissing and  _ kissing. _ Until all of our breath is stolen from our lungs, and the only thing we can do is gasp against each other's lips. 

He has the deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, the type of eyes you get lost in, the type of eyes that hold the secrets of the entire universe in them. 

He smiles at me, and the wind rustles, blowing strands of his hair across his face, and instead of beating down the temptation to swipe it back I let my hand raise to his face, I let my fingers brush into his hair, tucking it behind his ear, and I let myself smile back at him.

His nose wrinkles in the way it does when he’s about to laugh, and I can’t help the giddiness that bubbles up in my chest, and I laugh right along with him, until there's nothing in the cool night air but the stars and our laughter. We cling to one another, laughing and laughing and  _ laughing,  _ with tears in our eyes, and watery smiles. And somehow I can’t believe I got this lucky, I can’t believe my life worked out in the way I’ve wanted it to since I was fifteen years old.

“Took you long enough.” I say, my voice a teasing whisper once we’re in the back of his truck, silently tracing our names into each other's back, a tangle of limbs. I can feel him smile against my shoulder, and a bolt of electricity races down my spine when he kisses me there, too. If this becomes our new normal, I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle it. But I’ll figure it out, because I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers back, and I smile, because it just seems like a whispering type of mood. “Turns out I’m way more stubborn than you are.”

We both laugh at that, laugh and hold each other just a little tighter. Maybe it all would’ve been different in another reality, maybe I wouldn’t have stepped into that road, maybe Ari wouldn’t have had to save me, maybe we would’ve been this happy much sooner, but I wouldn’t change anything. All the pain, all the hurt, the suffering. I wouldn’t change any of it, not because I liked it, not because I think it makes my happy ending that much sweeter, but because I would gladly go through anything, any obstacle, any ass kicking,  _ anything  _ if it means Aristotle finally letting me love him

Because how could I ever let Aristotle Mendoza think he’s not loved?

* * *

  
  


The drive back to our house is quiet, but not suffocatingly so. Ari is driving with one hand on the wheel because the other has mine in its grasp, and I can’t help but smile like an idiot, my thumb brushing lightly over the back of his hand. He isn’t smiling, but he looks lighter. Happier, and butterflies flutter from my stomach all the way up to my chest as I realize that’s because of me. He’s finally happy, because of me. It’s such a crazy thought, that my whole life I was looking for someone, and that someone was this boy right next to me, the boy that finally let himself hold my hand.

“So,” I break the silence, but not because it’s uncomfortable, but because I can’t possibly stare at his beautiful face without wanting to kiss him senseless. “I’m going to tell my parents we’re boyfriends, is that okay?”

Surprise flicks over Ari’s face, and for a moment a feeling of dread settles heavy in my stomach. Maybe I went too far, what if he wanted to keep us a secret? I didn’t want to push his boundaries, but I wanted to shout into the world that Aristotle Mendoza was finally mine. What if he didn’t want that?

The dread is gone as quick as it came, because the look on Ari’s face is replaced with a small grin and deeply amused brown eyes.

“I haven’t even asked you to be my boyfriend yet.” He points out, his voice teasing. I grin at him, raising his hand to kiss gently at his knuckles.

“Well, maybe you don’t need to, maybe I’m the one who’s asking.” I say, and he laughs, shooting a quick look at me before focusing back on the road. We’re getting close to my house now, just one more turn around the corner at the end of the street and he’d be pulling into my driveway.

Before he can answer, I plow on, smiling like a maniac, “Will you? Be my boyfriend?”

His smile turns soft, and he turns down that road, and drives a little longer before pulling into my driveway, the engine cutting out beneath us as he parks the car in place. He turns to look at me, eyes softly crinkled at the corners, and he kisses me. And I kiss him back, soft and so slow, like we have all the time in the world, like it isn’t nearly three in the morning and my parents aren’t going to kill me in the morning if they figure out I’ve been gone this late. We just kiss, like we’re the only two people in the world. And it’s sweet, and slow, and Ari has his hand on the back of my neck, drawing me closer and closer until I’m pressed up against him, and we kiss until our lungs burn and we have to pull back for air.

My brain feels like a melted mess of mush, and all I can do is look at him and smile all dopey as we catch our breath. 

“Yeah,” He breaths, resting his forehead against mine, “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

I kiss him again, because I’m elated, because even though it feels like we’re much deeper than that, deeper than the word boyfriend can define, it still means he’s mine, and I’m his, and we belong to one another on some level. 

He walks me to my front door, because he’s secretly a romantic, I just know it. And he kisses me goodnight, multiple times, before I grin against his lips and tell him I actually have to go inside for it to be considered a goodnight kiss. He laughs at that, loosens his fingers from the front of my shirt, pecks my lips one last time, and then I’m inside my house, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

I’m so blinded, by the kissing, by the adrenaline in my veins, by the way my lips tingle like they can still feel Ari, that I don’t notice my two very tired parents staring at me from the living room as I float up the stairs to my bedroom. Or, well, I do notice them, just the only thing I can think of doing is smiling at them like the most lovesick person in the world. They don’t say anything, and even if they do I don’t think I’d be able to really hear them.

Soon enough I’m in my bed and under the covers, my head spinning and my heart racing in my chest. I touch my fingers to my lips one last time, remembering almost like if I go to sleep I’ll wake up and find out everything that happened was actually just some figment of my imagination. 

I close my eyes, and as I drift off into sleep, I remember the way Aristotle looked at me tonight, and I think there’s absolutely no way any of it could’ve been fake.


End file.
